


Age 14: Sam Vimes Jr gets caught fighting.

by catintheinfinite (michelle439731)



Series: A Difficult Age [2]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ankh-Morpork City Watch, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15180317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michelle439731/pseuds/catintheinfinite
Summary: Fourteen is a great age.  Except when it's not.  It's not Sams fault he keeps getting into fights.  Apart from when it is.  His dad needs to back off.  And give him some advice.





	1. Chapter One

Vimes had just sat down in his office in Treacle Mine Road station when he heard the commotion below.

First he thought it was just the new recruits coming off night shift clashing with the longer serving constables starting their day shift. It was odd to think that these were kids who had grown up with the Watch at the strength that it was.  They had no memory of an Ankh-Morpork that didn’t have an efficient Watch with Vimes at it’s head. The newest recruits were just a few years older than young Sam. 

Sam had tagged along when his father had left the house that morning.  He was on break from that school of his and was bored. He had a fancy that morning to follow his father to work and then try to spy on the patrol patterns the early morning lance constables.  Vimes felt he was now old enough to walk about Ankh-Morpork himself. The verb ‘walk’, however, seemed to meager a word to describe the strut of fourteen year old Sam Vimes Jr.

Sam was still small for his age but very effective at walking around like he owned the place.  He also compensated by acting like he wanted to start fights with anyone who looked at him wrong.  Vimes wasn’t sure how all this was going over at the Guild but on the streets of Ankh-Morpork too many people knew who he was to be goaded to fight the fourteen year old Chief of police.

It was too bad. Vimes, to his shame, often felt that Sam could probably do with a good beating just to bring him down a notch or two.  Vimes didn’t really know how good his son was at fighting to subtly try and encourage something like that. He didn’t know what his boy was being taught at that school for Assassins. More than once Sam had avoided a conversation with his Dad by simply climbing out a window.  When the windows were too high off the ground with no drainpipe running close by his boy had to improvise and had once climbed up the library wall. It was immediately obvious that he was not sure on how to come back down again but he had just stayed in the rafters till his father left.

The sound was still muted through the closed door but it Vimes would recognise the sound of a fight anywhere.  He hoped Sam was not involved however, suddenly, within the raised voices was a much higher pitch one Vimes recognised.  Definitely Sam. His heart dropped through his stomach. There was more shouting and then a pause. Then there was Sam’s voice and just Sams voice.  Everyone else had shut the hell up and Sam was screaming up a bloody storm.

Vimes was out the door and down the stairs, there was more yelling.  One other person now, a man, shouting something about the Commander being upstairs and being disgusted with their behaviour.  It was a Sergeant Green disciplining his new recruits.

Vimes stepped into the main room and the recruits shuffled into a line.  They had not yet been drilled sufficiently by Captain Detritus on how to do this to his satisfaction just yet, but they at least knew a superior officer when they saw one.  

At the end of the line was a lance constable with a bloody nose and a cut across their cheek. They were in line but wobbled unsteady on their feet having been yanked into place by one of their fellow officers. The recruit next to them was not looking at either them or Vimes; hoping not to in attract the Chief Constables attention but also not wanting their colleague to attract it either.

None of the other recruits looked like they had been fighting.  Sam was nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell is going on?” Vimes asked in a way that demanded an answer.

The Sergeant stepped forward, he was very white and looked like he was waving goodbye to his very recent promotion. He didn’t look like he’d been fighting either. 

“Commander, if I could have a quick word with you upstairs before,” but young Sam managed to crowbar himself into the conversation with an enraged scream.

“Let me go!” 

Vimes couldn’t immediately see his son.  Young Sam was obviously well enough to keep up the vocal assault on those within the building.  Vimes looked around. A glance back to the Sergeant showed him to be even more nervous, he had perhaps taken an action that his commanding officer would categorise as “excessive”.

“Sergeant?” Vimes gave him one of those looks that his son seemed to have built up immunity against.  Coppers however recognised the look and generally it meant someone was about to be in big trouble. The Sergeant recognised it immediately.  

“LET ME GO!” howled Sam.  There was more banging. His son was obviously unharmed enough to kick, punch and slam anything around him.

The noise was coming from one of the interrogation rooms. Vimes walked through the room, pushed open the door and there was his son.  Black eye blooming on his face, handcuffed to the pipes and furious. Vimes was always amazed at the amount of rage that could be contained in such a small body.

“He handcuffed me!  He picked me up and threw me over here and handcuffed me to the bloody pipes.  I’m going to murder you!” Followed by another shriek of rage.

The handcuffs were nothing that Sam couldn’t have broken out of in thirty seconds if he’d had his wits about him but his wits had failed in his anger.  If he had been any stronger he’d of had the pipes out of the wall but he was small and skinny Sam Vimes Jr. Vimes could see him getting tired and when he was tired he would cry and of all things he could not be chained to the WatchHouse pipes when the waterworks started.

The Sergeant stood at the door, when Vimes turned to look at him he saw the young officers squinting round him trying to see in the room without moving from their parade line.  “I restrained him,” Green said in a halting voice. “He had been fighting with,” here the Sergeant hesitated as if it wasn’t perfectly obvious who it had been, “eh, one of the new recruits.  They wouldn’t break apart so I used enough force to keep them apart.”

“You couldn’t have just...?”  However Vimes was at a loss and actually thought that handcuffing his son probably had been the best act. How many times had he wanted to do that himself?

“She, eh, tried to bite him.”  The Sarge was looking less afraid now he could see Vimes was not about to go spare.  Vimes tried to remember if the Sergeant was a father himself, perhaps he was used to wrangling children and this had worked for him in the past.  Young Sam was just too old to listen to an authoritative voice and go and sit in the corner.

The lance-constable with the bloody nose was shoved into the room by their fellows who wanted to see a good show.  

Without any self-control Sam was going to give them one.  “He assaulted me!” He screamed.

“I defended myself.”  It was the new recruit, their blood was up, their head was still tipped back, and they were probably thinking they’d be better off exploring other recruitment opportunities for a young citizen of Ankh-Morpork.  

“You can’t take a joke!” Sam was blind to everything else now.

“This is my job you little shit.  I work here. You’re just a baby who doesn’t understand that!”  The Sergeants face drained while the lance-constable shouted at young Sam, these were his men who were out of control. “Piss off back your big house.”

Sam took a deep shaky breath.  Vimes could see the tectonic shift in emotions happen across the face of his son.  This was the wrong thing to say. This was the worst thing to say. Poor little rich boy was Sam’s biggest button.  The shit had well and truly hit the windmill. Sam screamed again and wrattled the chain against the pipe. “I hate you.”  It was screamed at the world.

Vimes needed to get a grip on the situation. “Sergeant dismiss your men. Take that one down to see the doctor.” The Sergeant yelled a dismissal but everyone was already halfway out the door when Vimes had taken breath. He had no doubt they would hover close by to keep an eye and on the situation and a ready ear to hear the fall out.  The Sergeant dropped the key for the handcuffs on the table and led the young lance-constable out.

“You’re not even going to yell at them are you.  You think they did nothing wrong. You should fire them all.  He punched me in the face. You don’t care about that. That idiot Sargeant  handcuffed me. Laid hands on me. Why don’t you care about that? Why won’t you yell at them?  It’s me, it’s always me that’s wrong.” The tears had arrived, furious anger spilling down his cheeks making him angrier still that he couldn’t control himself.

“I’m going to uncuff you now, promise to behave.”

Sam continued as if Vimes had not interrupted.  “That’s the first thing you should have done but you stayed over there making sure lance-constable stupid and Sargeant stupid were ok.”  Vimes was never more aware that his son was the same height as him when he was getting yelled at. It was quite something to look the fourteen year old in the eye and know he was only going to get taller.

“You have to learn to bloody control yourself Sam!”  Vimes was next to the boy now but he hadn’t uncuffed him yet.  Part of him was worried his son would suddenly realise that Vimes hadn’t done anything like this to him so was unlikely to cuff him again.  What better way to humiliate his father than to ignore an order from the Commander in his own watch house?

“I was provoked.”

“Into what action were you provoked Sam?  You are in the Assassins guild, you could have really hurt them.  How much training do you think that kid has had?” It was too much for Vimes sometimes and somewhere along the line it had all slipped from his control.  “The Sargeant has already yelled at his men. According to the him it sounds like I should be throwing you in the tanty for assault on a Watch officer.” Vimes had threatened this before but with no follow through the threat had failed to be threatening.  “It’s you that’s getting off easy. Special treatment from the Watch because your my son.”

“Bet you wish he was your son instead!”

Vimes was floored.  “Where the hell did that come from?”

But Sam had gotten a grip of himself now and was breaking out the cuffs himself without the help of the key.  Vimes desperately wanted to keep him around to figure out what Sam was confessing with that final outburst.

“Then you can hang out together at the watch house and be watchmen together and be poor together and hate on all the rich folks up on Scoone Avenue.  And me and mum’d be better off without you.” The cuffs were off now and Sam was free. He looked at the door but that meant going out through a group of watchmen, who already thought he was an entitled baby, with his eyes full of tears. Assault on a Watch officer and Commander Vimes hadn’t done anything yet to discipline his son.  “I hate him, I hate all the Sammie and I HATE YOU.”

With a final scream which lanced though Vimes Sam opened the window, wriggled through and dropped down from the first floor.Vimes watched him run out the back of the Watch house through the training yard.  He couldn’t follow him, he wasn’t as fast or as skinny to get where Sam could go. Sam would go home eventually. He’d run until he couldn’t any more, go somewhere private - Vimes didn’t know where - and pull himself together.  Later he would climb in through his bedroom window so his mother wouldn’t see him.

There was no point going home until Sam made it home.  Vimes needed to have that word with his Sergeant and with a certain lance-constable.


	2. Chapter Two

Vimes went back into the main room where everyone was suddenly very busy.  The remaining squad was surreptitiously trying to see if Sam was coming out as well or if he had escaped punishment.  Again.

The Sergeant stood to attention waiting for his superior to return.  Vimes was not familiar with the men on night shift any more, tried to rack his brains to remember what dealings he’d had with the man before.  He looked very white. Justifiably so after restraining his son against a wall.

“Sergeant a word.”  Vimes nodded to the stairs and the man followed him up.

The Sergeant stood in front of the Commanders desk and saluted, mostly out of nerves.

“Who was the young lance constable that decided to hit my son?”  Vimes could see it in the Sergeant’s face, he didn’t want to drop the new recruit in it, equally he didn’t want to lie, given that the Commander had turned up to find his son cuffed to the pipes and a junior officer very obviously bleeding from the nose.

“It was lance-Constable Watt, sir.  Bit of a temper on her but will be a fine officer once we’ve sanded down the edges a bit.  Used to work in the fish market so she’s used to handling herself. She’s a good lad but she’s new so not the most familiar with, eh, family matters.”

‘Family matters’ is that what they were calling it,thought Vimes.  “How did it start?”

“I wasn’t there to see sir, I had stepped away to deal with the shift hand over.  I could tell you what the lance-constable told me,” Vimes held up his hand, he’d be asking her later.  “I arrived, on the scene, and saw that they were entangled - Watt’s bigger and appeared more familiar with a more rough and tumble style.  She probably could have handled it without intervention but I know that your lad is training at the guild and I didn’t want him to do a mischief to her - not while he was pitching a,” again the Sergeant stumbled on the word that was clearly not for Vimes’ ears, “in full possession of his faculties. Sir.”

“He’s just at that age I’m told.  Trying to fight the world.” Vimes said, he sat back in his chair. “OK, so here’s what’s going to happen, you’ll send the lance-constable up here to apologise and I’ll fetch my son back here tomorrow morning.  They’ll shake hands in this office and we’ll say no more about this. Do you think she’ll agree to that?”

“She’s not fired sir?”

“That what she’s worried about?”

“She’s trying not to let it show sir. She’s young and bunking over here.  Enlistment form said sixteen but I’ll eat my stripes if she’s a day over fifteen.  Plus she says she’s from Uberwald but I don’t believe that either, not with that accent.  Run away from something that one. She spends most of her time hanging around the station.  I suspect she’d rather not go back to any home that she’s come from. I’d rather not put her out over something like this?”  The Sergeant finished unsure of himself in the end. Vines saw the look in his Sergeants eyes. It happened every time. You got attached.  Not all the recruits made it through. There were those you fought for and there were those you were happy to see go. The good Sargeant here had become attached and lance-constable Watt had found a place under his wing.

“I take it this isn’t the first time you’ve spoken to her about fighting?”  He could see the Sergeant didn’t want to say anything but there would have been an official report filed.  There was always something to file these days.

“She’s been fighting with some of the other officers, just testing each other you understand.  And she can get a bit aggressive out on the streets, people don’t take her serious cause of her age and she throws herself about a bit.”

Vimes sighed.  Sand down her edges indeed.  “Get her up here to apologise,” 

~~

The Sergeant went down to the locker room where lance constable Watt was staring into her locker. She hadn’t changed out of her uniform yet, which was good.  She looked at him, she was very pale, and it struck the Sergeant again that she was very young. Sixteen she had put on her enlistment form, but she had already worked a year at the fish market, it was unclear where she had been before.  She looked very tired. Early mornings you could get used to, the first week of a night shift was something else. 

“It’s going to be ok lance-constable, no one is getting fired.  Commander just needs you up there for an explanation and an apology.”  She didn’t look convinced. She’d go along for now but she was a right suspicious bastard - that was good in a copper, not so good when you were the one in charge.  She also didn’t ask if he promised, that’s what children did.

“That sounds very reasonable.”  She was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Yes.  Just go up there and apologise you know you did wrong and you won’t do it again.  You’ll be disciplined for the fighting of course but, like I said, no one is getting fired.”

They walked up the stairs together.  She paused before the door, “Will this caused a lot of problems for the Commander?”

She was going to go in expecting him to change her mind.

“He’s used to this sort of thing I think.” Said the Sergeant, loyal to his lance-constable and knocked on the door.

“Kid kept saying that his father would take my badge.  Do you think Commander Vimes will let that happen?”

The clang of realisation drowned out the Vimes calling ‘enter’ and the Sergeant stood stock still outside the door, dawning horror congesting his mind.  She didn’t know who Sam Vimes Jr was. She didn’t realise who she was about to speak to. She was fired for sure. Commander would go spare. Before he could get his wits together to whisper something hurriedly to her she was already through the door and closing it behind her on his face.  Gods protect her he thought.

~~~~

Vimes saw her now.  He tried to judge her age but all the new officers looked too young to Vimes these days.  She stood to attention in front of him dressed in a second hand uniform with cotton wool still stuck up one nostril.  She was good few inches taller than his Sam.

“The Sergeant spoke to you lance-constable?”

“YesSir.”  She said, all one word and before Vimes could say anything else she said.  “I’m very sorry for hitting the young man. It was extremely inappropriate and I should not have taken that course of action.  I am to be disciplined by my commanding officer for this offense. I appreciate that you are not taking any further action on this matter.”

She’s apologised for fighting before thought Vimes.

“Tell me what happened lance-constable.”

“I’d rather not sir.”

“You’d rather not?” Vimes repeated back to her.

“There’s no excuse for fighting, not when you are in a guard uniform, especially not with, especially not with anyone. No matter how it started the end consequence is the same.  Me bashing my helmeted head against his face, no matter the ‘pro-vo-kation’.”

Definitely been fighting before.

“Very good Watt.”

“Thank you sir.” She looked around the room.

“He’ll be back tomorrow to apologise to you.  I’ll make sure of it.” Vimes said darkly.

“I hope this won’t cause too much of a problem for you sir. I don’t know what trouble my actions have dropped you in but, well, I’m sorry. He said his father would try and take my badge, I don’t know what influence he has. Sometimes people just say that to scare you.”  She smiled very awkwardly through her nerves.

“You don’t know who his father is?” Vimes sighed.

“I’ve not been in Ankh-Morpork for long Sir, and lowest rung on the fish market stall you don’t hear the gossip about the upper classes.  Certainly wouldn’t recognise one, or their kid. I’m learning real fast though and I appreciate the opportunity I have been given to serve this fine city.”

Vimes heard it loud and clear, please don’t fire me I can’t go back there.

“Your on the night shift right?  Your shift had just finished, what were you doing on the desk? You are not senior enough for that position.”  Vimes lit a cigar and waited for a response. She didn’t have much of a poker face but she was considering her answer and for one so young to be this good at politics already was a good sign.

“I was still at the watch house, I stay here and pick up work while I’m about.”  She licked her lips. “I heard some of the other officer say that ‘he was back’ and they ‘couldn’t deal with this now but we can’t leave the desk empty’ and ‘send the new girl out’.  I figured it was just another hazing sir, there was someone difficult out in main reception that the lads didn’t want to deal with.”

So that’s what she had decided to go with.  Vimes was quite glad that she didn’t know his other titles.

“Will you tell me who?” Vimes asked, not really expecting an answer.  She was loyal to her fellow officers at least. And like she said, the consequence were the same whoever it was.

“I think they knew I didn’t know who he was, they knew I didn’t know who his father was, and they knew I’d been done for fighting twice.  They wanted him to get a hiding but they didn’t want to be the ones facing the consequence of the action. So they set me up. I really am sorry for all the trouble that I’ve caused. Will his dad want me fired?”

“No.” In the space of thirty seconds Vimes had become more mad at his son if anything.  Here were officers avoiding dealing with the boy properly because they knew who his father was.  What else was he doing when he came round the Watch Houses? And they had set up this lance-constable, knowledge or not she’d have complained loud enough to the Sergeant and it might not have made it up any further. She was looking at her boots.  “You don’t seem convinced even though this is your Commander telling you this?”

“It’s because it’s my Commander telling me this that I’m not convinced sir.”  She got that look in her face similar to Sam when he tried to explain something.  “I’ve been done for fighting and the Corporal yelled at me, and the Sergeants yell at the Corporals and the Captains yell at the Sergeants.  Not that I’ve seen Captain Carrot yell but Sarge did come out of his office looking awfully pale. And your Commander of the whole Watch dealing with this.  I think whoever his father is is very well connected and probably could have me fired or make me leave the city or something.”

“That’s not going to happen.”  Vimes decided to be the one to tell her.  “I’m his father.”

He watched the penny drop and her eyes widen so much that they almost fell out of their sockets.  Her mouth flopped open but no sound made it out.

“Yes.  I’ll be having a word with my son about his behaviour around the Watch Houses.  He’ll be here tomorrow to apologize for this incident. You are dismissed.”

She eventually found her wits, turned to go, turned back and saluted and then managed to leave.

Vimes called the Sergeant back into his office.

“I’ll have a word with Sam, he’ll be staying away from the watch houses from now on.  Probably best to avoid trigger points. That one’s got a good head on her shoulders. Who knows, they might even make friends with each other.  How old did you say she was again?”

“Sixteen. Maybe.”

“She seems a lot older than that.”

“All due respect sir you are comparing her to Sam.”  The Sergeant shrugged. “Probably would be good for her to make a friend her own age too.”

Vimes would just have to hope that his son was amenable to an apology.  Certainly not in the mood that he had left the Watch House in. Here was his father already going in to bat for another Sammy who by all rights should have been fired for their third fighting offense.  As it turns out the officers had been actively avoiding this situation and had set her up. 

Perhaps Sam had been right, he did prefer the lance-constables over his own son.  Afterall they followed his orders and could generally be trusted to carry out the work and all wanted to to a good job.  Sam was just all over the place.

“I wouldn’t worry about your lad sir, he’s just at that age.  He’ll grow out of it soon.”

“I hope so,” said Vimes.


	3. Chapter Three

Vimes left early.  He tried to convince himself it was because it was a quiet day and this wasn’t just another concession for his son.  He tried to tell himself that Sam was just at a difficult age, that was all. He tried not to think about how his parenting might have been at the root of the problem.

Vimes wanted to return to those years when Sam wanted to hold his hand and as a father he could be his sons whole world.  For Vimes to always have an answer and the answer be the right one. Vimes missed having the ability to just pick him up and hold him and the times when they would sit quietly and read together.  That had gone and all that was left was questions that his son had difficulty articulating and Vimes was useless at answering. Sam Vimes Jr had been tost into the tempest of adolescence and Vimes didn’t even have the memory of a father at this age to guide him.  Keel had been the closest thing he’d had but at that age Vimes had been desperate to get any advice. Sam, on the other hand, didn’t want anyone to tell him what to do but desperately needed to be told.

Everyone was taking time out of their day to give him parenting advice.  Carrot and his half a dozen adopted brood didn’t seem to have any problems at all - ‘firm hand you’ll guide him right, I remember how you treated me when I first joined the watch’.  Of course when Carrot had first joined Vimes had been pretty drunk and didn’t fully remember the time before the dragon. The heads of the guilds, ones with grown children, just looked at him like they had never experienced such sympathy for Sir Samuel Vimes before.  The ones that had children younger than his boy took surreptitious notes on what not to do when their own got to that age. Colons advice had consisted of how to write a strongly worded letter to discipline Sam. Nobby didn’t offer any advice, he had as much experience with good dads as Vimes did.

One memorable occasion led to a man in the back of the hurry-up wagon giving him advice. Vimes had agreed out of sheer desperation when the man had offered Vimes his opinion.  The advice was sound enough to always listen to what the kid wasn’t saying, try and find some common ground. Kids that age were just testing their boundaries. “Sometimes you got to give them enough rope to hang themselves with, let them find out where their own boundaries lie.”  

“You should listen to him, he’s a great dad.” The other occupant of the wagon piped up, they had picked this one up earlier for breaking and entering.

“He teach you everything he knows?”  Vimes had asked the young man. 

“Sometimes a practical education is the best.  Letting people fall they learn how to pick themselves up.  Believe me sir, I learned my lesson, I won’t get caught again.”

“Carl!”  came the yell from his dad.

~~

Vimes eventually reached his front door.  He probably should have taken a ride on the wagon from the station.  He didn’t want Sam to think that he was spending too much time at work over spending time with him. School wasn’t in at the moment and Sam was very aware of Vimes’ comings and goings.  A thought bubbled to the top of Vimes head - ‘you should retire’, it said. ‘Your almost sixty and you could keep going until you drop but maybe you should stop before you do. Your son needs you.’  Vimes was sure of that point at least. He wasn’t sure exactly what Sam needed him for at the moment apart from being a lighting rod with which to channel his anger through. 

He found Sam under the covers of his own bed.  It was at least an improvement from appearing frosty at the dinner table having decided not to speak to his father for an indeterminate amount of time.  But not as nice as when Vimes came home and the storm had blown over. Vimes knew now that the storm was just biding it’s time ready to come back with more strength but at least, in those moments, his son would smile at him.

He knocked on the open door. “Can I come in?”

The lump under the bed sighed with it’s whole shape and Vimes went over sat on the bed as close to it as he could.  He leant some of his weight against it, sometimes that was enough. It was not enough for Vimes today. “What was that at the watch house earlier?”

The lump under the covers shrugged again.  Vimes wanted to light a cigar but he’d promised Sybil no smoking in Sam’s room.

“You worked yourself into a state.  What set you off?” Vimes tried again and leaned back against the lump on the bed, as if he could take its pulse and that would tell him what was wrong.  “I know you are bored and wanting to get back to school. I can find you some work around the watch houses if you want? You didn’t need to come with me, you knew I was working.  You could have stayed with your mother.” Vimes really did try not to use any interrogation techniques on his son but sometimes he needed to just ask enough questions and wait for the suspect to twitch.  “And what was that about me wanting someone else to be my son?”

The lump on the bed went very still.  Vimes was reminded of the image of a mouse frozen between the paws of a cat, hoping that if it just sat still enough the cat would leave it alone.  He didn’t like that he was the predator in this metaphor. “Why would you say something like that?” 

The lump shifted enough and Sam raised his head above the covers.  It broke Vime’s heart to see how red his eyes were.

“Enough with the questions dad.  I was just mad, ok? I was just mad and that constable was there so I got mad at them.  It wasn’t anything, I say stupid things when I get mad.”

“Still I’d like to know.  If you’ll tell me?”

“You say stuff about aristocrats or the other boys I go to school with and I don’t know like is that me?” Vimes watched his sons eyes fill with tears.  “Like cause I’m rich and hang about with them and stuff. I don’t want to be like what you say about stuff but I’m still.” Vimes saw the duvet rise and fall as Sam flapped his arms under it and felt like the worst father in the world.

“You could never be like that.  I’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

“I know dad it’s just,” Sam flapped his arms again.

“Is that why you were fighting with the officer?”

Another whole body shrug.  “I said something about you,” something not complementary Vimes assumed.  “They said something back and then I said something back and I don’t know.  We were just fighting. They don’t normally do that, the Sammies I mean. I just figured that’s why you like them more, they don’t get caught fighting.”

“Well this one didn’t know you were my son which might have been why she hit you.  And they do get caught fighting, and they are disciplined and some are kicked out for continued violations.”  Vimes reached out to stroke his sons hair. “I love you very much you know. I’m sorry I’m not very good at showing it.  I’ll do better.” Vimes had said those words before. He meant them every time.

Sam wriggled his top half out from under the covers and wrapped his arms around his dad.  “I love you too.” Vimes realised that Sam must feel bad for those words to come out of his mouth so easily.  He wouldn’t meet his father’s eye but Vimes felt his heart swelled. “I should go apologise huh?” he said.

“Tomorrow.” Vimes reassured him.

“I’m just tired.  I’m tired and I’m mad.  I’m just all the time. And I  wanted someone to be mad at. So I made them mad.”  Sam wriggled in Vimes’ arms with his difficulty to articulate his next thought.  “It’s just feels like there’s this, I don’t know, thing inside of me. It just gets mad and I just let it.  Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” he said.  This is what he got from you, a voice in Vimes’ head said.  Sam was going to get his height from his mother, and once he stopped growing up he’d grow out and get his breadth from her too.  It was her thick dark hair on his head, those were her eyes and when he smiled it was Sybils smiled that beamed back at him. Vimes didn’t often see himself in his son, but he did now.  This creature was the same creature that Vimes had tamed. His son would need to learn to tame it and point it in a direction. Right now Sam just raged against the world in general and it spilled out of him and mostly landed on his father.  Vimes would just need to learn to weather it.

His son was slumped against him now.  Lost in the inability of fourteen year olds. Vimes rubbed his back and soon Sam was asleep, exhausted from the emotions day.

~~

The following morning Sam Vimes Jr presented himself to the Treacle Mill Watch House.  Washed, scrubbed, smoothed down, in a better mood and on his best behaviour. He sat quietly and waited to be called into the Commander’s office where his father, Sergeant Green and lance-constable Watt were waiting for him.  

Vimes called him in and they all stood in awkward silence for a moment.  Vimes gestured towards Sam.

“I’m sorry for making you mad enough to hit me.  I shouldn’t have done that, stuff.” Sam still needed to work on his apologies.

“I’m sorry too sir.  I should not have hit you.  I’m a watch officer and I should be held to a higher standard.  I want to thank you for not pursuing this matter any further.”

Vimes watched the emotions cross Sams face.  The boy had been called ‘sir’ before by the servants but not by a watch officer, and certainly not by someone his age but today Sam was in a good mood.

“Oh there’s no need to call me ‘Sir’, lance constable.  My name is Sam.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake.  She took it rather gingerly and shook it. “I really am very sorry about yesterday you know.  I’d like to make it up to you if I could. I understand that you have finished your shift now, yes?”  He didn’t let go of her hand. It was as if Vimes and the Sergeant had become paintings on the wall. Sam could turn the charm up to eleven when he wanted to.  “To apologise properly I’d like to take you out to Breakfast. Or dinner for you I suppose. I can ask Mr Baker to whip you up anything from the evening menu if you don’t prefer that over his breakfast offerings.  And afterward we can go round the corner for tuppenny upright.”

She pulled her hand back and balled it into a fist.  “Excuse me?”

“Have you never had one before?” Sam asked.  “Oh then I insist. They’re these little jam doughnuts, our cook showed me how to make them.  They are pretty easy but you need to get the amount of jam just right. You can get mulberry ones round the corner from here.”

“Ohh,” relief washed over the lance-constables face.   “I know what  _ they _ are.”

“Then what were you confused about?”

She leaned forward, “A tuppeny upright is something else too.”

“What?”  Sams face was full of open innocence and Vimes wanted to keep this smiling, happy Sam forever.

“It’s the cheapest thing you can get from a sex worker.” The young lance-constable replied.

Sam snorted with laughter.  “Well I could probably get you one of those ‘n all if you wanted.  I’ve had tea with the head of the Seamstresses guild you know.”

“When did this happen?” Asked Vimes, shocked at this casual acquaintance his son had acquired.

“Last week, Aunt Rosie came round to talk to Mum but she was out with the dragons so I entertained her while Mum put her wig on.”  He turned back to look at the lance-constable. “She said I was very charming.”

It was Watts turn to snort.  Sam took her hand again. “Please come to breakfast with me?”

“Yes?”  She still sounded unsure but was probably reasonably certain that Sam would feed her well and pay for all the food. Vimes saw his son turn, step towards the door and yank on the young lance constables hand.  He also watched her anticipate the move, drop her weight and resist the movement. “I have to wait till I’m dismissed.”

Sam sighed and gestured towards his father in a ‘come-on-then’ motion.  Like many things with his son Vimes suddenly felt he had missed a step and it was now his son who was dismissing him. He could almost hear the boy say ‘don’t let me detain you’.

“Alright you two, dismissed.”

While still holding hands the lance constable saluted her commanding officers and Sam waved.  Sam yanked her hand and pulled her out the door. “You don’t need to salute my dad, he doesn’t like it.”

The lance constable at least had the presence of mind to wait until she was out the door before she replied.  “This is why I thumped you, you know.”


End file.
